In both disenfranchised grief and resurrection, it is hard to know where you are. And often times, it feels irrelevant. Post life altering traumatic loss Road is perpetually foggy, no doubt. But is having some sort of proposed road map really going to alter the slog of now? Read more
And the confounding abyss in between
Walking into my first social outing since a virus attacked my autonomic nervous system 5.5 months ago, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Though much less than a few months ago, my nervous system still tends to over assimilate sound and does not adjust smoothly to darkness. Not to mention I’m still dealing with a slowly waning level of dizziness and lightheadedness. And then there’s the fertile world whose presence is, of course, immeasurable. Read more
In the aftermath of infertility, on the heels of the numbness and avalanche of grief that follows, there is a lot of sorting to do.
For me, it conjures the image of a once complete home now in shreds of rubble and shrapnel post tornado. Some of the pieces are just missing. Some still present are unrecognizable. Most noticeable is that the pieces no longer fit together into a form that shouts sense, direction and continuity.
And so in my mind, I have piles. Read more
An infertility survivor’s early summer musings
I had gotten through Father’s Day without much flinching. These milestones, or non-milestones, depending upon how you look at it seem to, in me lately, provoke the question: Does it get easier, or am I getting stronger? Read more
The Global Sisterhood Summit Part 2
Wrestling with the feeling that the other shoe is always about to drop was unavoidable – my subconscious associates anything infertility with the reasonable becoming a debacle, things going wrong when you do everything right and, most of all, deprivation. I was concerned that my flights weren’t real, that my boarding passes wouldn’t print and anything else non – sensical you can think of. Read more
It was three days after Easter. I awoke with a slow bleed into consciousness. I know there are those dramatic shoot up from the pillow in the still of the night bursts – this was not that. But something was…..wrong, amiss somehow. Read more
“Just ten minutes – you need it.”
I was wrapping up my yoga practice later than intended, which is quite the normality in my house. From people on the outside of the restaurant business looking in I often field the question “what do you DO with your husband working so many late hours?”
“I have a lot of interests,” I’ll respond. An impish smirk no doubt crawls across my face as images of me welcoming the midnight hour blowing on my flute or standing on my head in my yoga room come to mind.
Tonight I can’t sell myself on omitting meditation altogether. I take my seat with myself and the darkness. Read more